The Magic of Grief
by Trygvasson
Summary: Tells the story of how the Stone Table came to be in the early days of Narnia. May up the rating for later chapters
1. Prologue

**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life.**

 _In autumn of the first year of creation, when Frank I was High King of Narnia, it occurred to an otter to ask his sovereign, "Sire, the fish that I hunt die for my nourishment, just as the trees and flowers seem to die now with the waning of the year."_

 _"All things must pass," the King agreed wisely._

 _"Shall you die, sire? Shall I?"_

 _At that moment, King Frank understood for the first time that his subjects, innocents newborn of a new world, had no understanding of death and ending. In this world, that was knowledge belonging solely to the King and Queen and to the White Witch, wherever she had fled. Even the changing of the seasons was novel to Narnians. The High King thought and finally answered, "I shall age, which means to change with time just as the seasons change, and I shall die, when the time is right in the winter of my years. You shall as well. But it not something to view with trepidation. Aslan appoints a time to die for everything, after our purpose in life has been served."_

 _"What is the purpose of life?" The otter asked, mystified by this new knowledge._

 _"That I cannot tell you, for that is a magic I do not know. The purpose of every life is unique and understood only by the Great Lion and the Emperor Beyond the Sea."_

 _The otter was silent for a time but then spoke again, "Sire, you say a year is like a life, with a spring of new birth, a summer of growth, an autumn of aging, and a death of winter. But there were storms in summer that brought down trees which now are already barren, as you have previously told us all trees will be in winter. Do storms happen in life as well and cut it short? What is the meaning of death?"_

 _The king was at a loss as to how to respond but remembered a teaching from the Other World of his birth. "Storms do come in life, otter, and their burden can be heavy. But Aslan does not allow a life to end before its appointed time. A life will be tempestuous when a creature turns from Aslan's teachings, and they may die because of it, but all things work together for good for them that love him and are called to his greater purpose, and that is the deepest magic. Those creatures who follow Aslan will be fulfilled in life and will be rewarded with perfect summer bliss forever when they leave to be with Aslan after they die. Do not see the winter of the year or of your life as an ending. Rather, be transformed by the renewal of your mind and your heart so that you will better hear the will of Aslan and can leap to his purpose for you with the coming of spring."_

 _With that, the otter was reassured. He grew in wisdom and spread his understanding to the other animals, so that when storms and winter came, all remembered the words of the king and were not afraid._

—Excerpt from _A Book of Tales for Children by Mrs. Dolly Fauna_ , presented to Prince Frank III on his fifth birthday.

* * *

It was the year 150, in the rule of High King Frank IV, and a prince and a princess were lounging in the shade of the Tree of Protection. It was late spring, and the tree was blooming, yet still a soft scent of its precious silver apples somehow lingered in the air. The royal children often came here when seasonal wanderings of Narnia's itinerant court visited the Lantern Forest. It was a comforting spot cherished by the royal family ever since Frank I, the children's great-great-great-great grandfather, was crowned king beneath the spreading branches.

"Tell me about Mommy?"

Prince Frank closed the _Book of Tales_ he had been reading to his little sister. "What do you want to know, Helen?"

"Was she beautiful?"

Frank laughed gently at her question. "You always ask that. You know she was. She was so beautiful the Naiads would keep their meres extra still after she looked into them, and the image of her reflection would stay for ages."

"A year and a day!"

Frank grinned. "That's right."

"But what did she _look_ like?"

That was a harder question for Frank to answer. Queen Swanwhite had vanished six years ago, when Frank and his younger brother Henry were young children and Helen only a baby. It was hard to remember, and every artist who had tried to paint the queen's portrait had given up in despair of their own ability. "Well, Helen... she was very fair. She was part Naiad, and well-loved by her cousins in the wells. The Naiads in the Fords of Beruna once said her skin glowed like the pearls they find there, and it was true. She had a warm light in her, I think. Her hair was long and soft and... dark, I think. I don't remember. And she was tall, taller than Father..."

"Was she kind?"

"Yes, she was. She was the kindest person I knew, and she loved us very much."

"Do you think she'll ever come back?"

"...I don't know, Helen. I miss her and I wish she could." He smiled at his little sister and gave her a hug. "But don't worry, we'll see her again. In Aslan's Country. And if she is there already, then you know she is happy, and she is waiting for us."

"Right. I know."

 **Author's Note:** **So this was basically a prologue to set the mood. I do promise, this fanfic is pretty well-planned and going some interesting places. The story premise: where did the Stone Table come from? Except for the White Witch/Jadis, who becomes very important for obvious reasons, and Swanwhite who gets a brief mention in _The Last Battle,_ all of these are OCs, because we are set in the early days of Narnia, the first dynasty. Also, because this is an origin story for an important piece of Narnian mythos, and Narnia was basically Christianity fanfiction, there will be a lot of references to Judeo-Christian theology. Updates will be unpredictable, sorry.**


	2. Swanwhite Returns

**Matthew 5:4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.**

It was late summer. The Court of the High King had just reached the northeast point of its long circuit. All around, pavilions were being raised for their stay at the southern edge of the Wiggle Marshes where the River Shribble coalesced again for its journey to the Eastern Sea. In three weeks, the court would journey on to the coast and eventually to Cair Paravel in time for the Autumn Feast. There they would remain until the Spring Equinox, when the yearly tour of the realm would start anew.

For now, Narnians danced. A band of fauns played a merry tune on flutes and drums, and a bonfire lit up the hot summer evening. High King Colin II looked over his family from his high seat and smiled. He had two babies- his twin grandsons Frankie and Col- bouncing on his knees. Their parents, Crown Prince Frank V and his wife Princess Rosemary, swayed to the music on the far side of the fire. The High King's siblings danced with his other children, Queen Cassandra coaching sixteen-year-old Prince Henry and King Hector allowing eleven-year-old Princess Helen to dance standing on his feet. Colin grinned; his daughter really should have grown out of that by now, but her uncle spoiled the child. So did her aunt and her brothers. So did he. Ever since her mother, Queen Swanwhite, Colin's achingly beautiful wife, had mysteriously vanished. The music seemed to fade from his mind as he remembered. It was ten years and two months, now, in the height of summer, in the North of the kingdom. They had passed by the very spot again this year. He and the children had laid flowers in the glade where she was last seen. He had again gazed into the forest pool, hoping to see her reflection again. But no, it was too long ago, and she had not returned...

For the first twenty years of his life, the High King, like most sentient creatures, would often look into forest pools as he passed them: to see his reflection, or the secret contents of the water, or the blueness of the sky, or the smile of a Naiad. For the first ten years of his marriage, the High King would gaze into such pools more frequently, privileged to see the lovely face of one very specific Naiad, the wife whom he loved. The Queen had only to look into clear water, after all, and the resident nymph would still the surface to make a canvas for her reflection. Such an image would persist even after the Queen moved on, so much did her wild cousins love the Naiad Queen: a soft, oval face framed with dark tresses like ripples on a deep river. Clear skin with the luminescence of the pearls from the fresh waters of her youth, with cheeks that blushed like a newly plucked wild rose petal floating in a fast current. Her lips were full and red as the southern lotus. Her eyes were the blue of meltwater from the mountains, with mysterious eddies and deep-set. Her neck was long, her shoulders slender but well-muscled, both from a lifetime of play in the water and from the insistent burden of three healthy children. Her breasts were full with mother's milk, as their young daughter was not yet a year old...then. That was how she was remembered, in her last reflection somewhere in the hills just on the border of Ettinsmoor.

For the past five years, the High King would not leave a forest, meadow, mountain, plain or valley without seeking out every mere, pond, and puddle along every brook and dry stream, hoping against hope to see that perfect face again. But it was not to be. Queen Swanwhite, beloved daughter of the Falls of Telmar, wife of the High King and mother of his children, had vanished. That last perfect image captured in quiet water in the foothills of Ettinsmoor blurred in time. The search parties gave up by harvest, but the full royal court returned after a year, devastated again to find merely an impression of a dark-haired woman shimmering in the water, and a still-mourning Naiad to commiserate. By the next year, that pool held a pearly luminescence, still reminiscent of the Queen but no face or form remaining. The next year, the pool itself was gone; the poor, ever-grieving Naiad had begged a pair of beavers to dam the stream higher up and divert it to the other side of the hill. Filled with pity, the beavers agreed to her plea, though they may not have had they known her intent. As her stream dried up, the Naiad stayed behind in the very pool where the Queen had last been seen. The pool shrank and turned to mud in the summer heat, then dried out completely. A Naiad does not live without water.

Frankie squirmed, drawing the king away from his gloomy thoughts. The little prince was babbling delightedly and pointing to the right. King Colin glanced over to see a cow chastising her calf. The young one mooed. He seemed inclined to ignore her and kept trying to approach the King. "Tor, settle down, you can't bother the High King!"

"It's quite alright, Madam," King Colin called to her. "My grandsons always want to play as well, and if you are agreeable...if it's not a bother for you..."

"Oh, please and thank you very much Your Majesty!" She bent her front knees towards him gracefully and nudged her wayward offspring. "Tor! Manners!"

The excitable calf stopped his frisking to stoop his head towards the King, though his tail still thrilled behind him. "Thanks, Your Mooajesty!" he said with a slight childish lisp.

Carefully, King Colin set both Frankie and Col down on the grass, but kept hold of their hands. He caught the eye of Lady Honeyblossum, the dryad who had cared for all the royal children in the past fifty years. "Boys, I'm going to let you play with Tor, but you are to stay with Mistress Bovinius and Lady Honeyblossum at all times. Say 'thank you' to the Mistress."

"Thankoo," the toddlers chorused, performing wobbly bows to the cow before running to meet their favorite playmate. "Tag! You're it!" Frankie crowed, as soon as he reached Tor. The princes cackled as Tor raced after them, prancing in loose circles. The young calf could catch the little human children easily, but that wasn't the point of the game. King Colin watched for half a minute, then turned back to watch the dancers for a time. Then he turned aside, restless. He would not deny the children their play, but without them to anchor him, the cheer somewhat left him for the evening. He wandered away from the fire towards the grand Pavilion of the High King, decked in red and gold, Aslan's colors. He lingered near the entrance for a moment but passed by. He needed the sky.

The High King walked the edge of the camp, staring out over the fields leading to the permanent marshes. A soft wind stirred the grass and sedge and rippled the nearest pool. The night was bright with silver stars, though the moon had yet to rise. He could also see a candle winking yellow in the window of the nearest wigwam. The King tried to recall the name of the marshwiggle who lived there. Dourboggle was the Chief of the Wiggles, he knew. Had been for seven years. It might be one of Dourboggle's cousins over in the wigwam, actually, but the name...

An odd feeling came over him, stirring the strange, untrained senses the king associated with the trace of magic in his blood, handed down from the Naiads, Dryads, and other nymphs sprinkling his family tree. He looked around yet saw nothing. Curious now, he continued his walk around the camp, turning more to the west now. The feeling grew stronger. In the distance, finally, he spotted a pale figure moving towards him. The King stopped, watching. It moved gracefully, almost gliding through the tall grass. He could see that it walked on two legs. He decided she was female, though there was no telling whether she was a nymph or a Daughter of Eve, or mixed-race, as himself. She was at least as tall as he was. She wore white. She was fair-skinned, though her hair was dark, blending softly into the night. King Colin felt his heart leap into his throat, and he ran forward towards her, closing the distance rapidly. As he approached, the woman gave a joyful shout and ran to meet him, arms wide.

"My darling!" she cried, as she threw her arms around him. She kissed his lips. In shock, the King did not even register the twinge of warning in the back of his mind; it was quickly silenced anyways as she smiled against him and kissed him again, fervently.

An age passed, but the King finally broke off the kiss to gaze into the familiar eyes of his beloved, a clear, deep blue like a winter sky or the ice of a glacier. "Swanwhite," he murmured, her very name a prayer, a question, a revelation, and a celebration. He hugged her, and wept.

 **Author's note: For those of you who are not aware, an itinerant court was rather common in the early Middle Ages in Europe. Before capital cities became pervasive, the king's entire court would progress throughout the country (countries were relatively small), taking up abodes in various castles and camping as needed. It allowed the king to know the country in a time when there was no such thing as firm communications channels. In my version of early Narnia, there's a bit of a hybrid system. Throughout the spring, summer, and early fall, there is an itinerant court making a grand circuit through the countryside. In winter, though, they keep to Cair Paravel, because who wants to go camping in the snow if you can stay in a castle by the sea?**

 **This chapter was already basically done. The next is not.**


	3. The Strains of Summer

**Hebrews 13:9 Do not be led away by diverse and strange teachings, for it is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace**

 _Frank I met the Witch for the first time in the Other World. He was driving a wagon through a great city when the monstrous woman appeared in the road. She stood as tall as the horse Strawberry who became the first winged horse in Narnia, and who was pulling the wagon in the Other World. So strong was the Witch, she wrenched an iron bar from the lamp post nearest and used it as a club to threaten the people around her. So pale was she, the whiteness of her skin seemed as bone to our future king, and shone horribly in the sun so that she was painful to look upon. Her hair was dark as the gullet of a dragon. Her face was pure terror and depravity. She wore outlandish clothing, for she was from a whole other world as well! That was a dark, dying world, which she had placed under a terrible curse with the greed and wrath in her spirit. The Witch had a poor old man with her, whom she thrust into the wagon as she leapt onto the seat where our future king was sitting. So fearsome and powerful was she, it was more of a step than a leap, and she stood on the seat as a plinth! Then she used a whip to scare poor Strawberry, and the wagon raced all around the city. Laughing madly all the way, she overturned tables and stands, and people fled before her mad gallop._

 _At long last, the careening carriage veered back to its berth. Two brave children waited with magic rings there. As soon as the haughty woman dismounted from her perch, pulling her hapless old companion along, the children came forward, for their rings would allow them to transport the Witch back to the Wood Between the Worlds. The Witch raised her iron bar threateningly. Frank of course stepped up to restrain the giant, afraid for the children's safety. As it was, the children, the Witch, the old man, Frank, and Strawberry were all caught by the magic of the rings and entered the Wood._

 _From the Wood, the group entered Narnia, and it was the dawn of creation. The Great Lion sang to bring light to the skies and life to the earth. Our king and the other good people there immediately hearkened to the Lion's song, of course, but the Witch despaired. The perfection of the song was inimical to the evil in her heart. Her face twisted in utter rage, becoming quite horrible to see. With hideous strength, she threw the iron club at Aslan. The iron bar flew straight and true, but bounced off the Lion as if it had the lightness of a daisy! It was then that Frank I and Strawberry first knew the power of the Lion._

 _The Witch fled to the North, where she remains to this day, as you know. The wonders of creation continued, with the birth of all manner of plants and animals and nymphs from the earth. What surprise is it then, that among all the new life sprouting from the fertile ground, a foreign seed, carelessly planted, should also sprout? The Witch's iron bar, torn from a lantern in the Other World, quickened and grew to be the Lantern Tree we know today, an immortal light, testament of the Beginning, and monument to the world of Adam and Eve, first home of our beloved king and queen. And that is the first story of both the Witch and the Lantern Tree._

—Excerpt from _A Book of Tales for Children by Mrs. Dolly Fauna_

* * *

"I had forgotten that one," Swanwhite laughed, as her sister-in-law finished reading the children's tale. "Mistress Fauna makes the Witch sound so frightful!"

"Well, she was," Cassandra commented with a slight smile.

"Of course she was!" Swanwhite said. "But not in body, at least not at first. Wasn't she supposed to be a great beauty in the world of her origin, and in the Other World of Adam and Eve?"

Cassandra reflected a moment. She had read the simple story to various children so many times, she had forgotten her own history lessons. "You're right," she said in surprise. "Her outer beauty initially concealed her inner twisted nature from the Son of Adam who brought her, and Frank I, here..."

"Diggory?"

"Yes, that's the name."

Swanwhite laughed again, and Cassandra saw she was watching Helen, who had become distracted after a couple stories to chase a rabbit across the lawn. The rabbit had indulged the princess for a few minutes but now seemed to have escaped to her own errands. Helen was now running in circles and waving her arms above her head in the meaningless and endless game of childhood.

"Helen, stop running all around like that and sit with us," Queen Cassandra called to her niece. She smiled uncertainly at Swanwhite. She had been second-guessing herself all week around her sister-in-law. It was difficult to reinitiate their relationship, especially with regards to Helen. Cassandra had acted as the young princess's mother for so long, how could she surrender that duty back to the woman who birthed her yet disappeared when Helen was still a babe? Quite simply, she couldn't, and her heart fluttered as she watched Helen sit down, closer to Swanwhite than to her. Helen was ecstatic to have her mother back, even though they really were complete strangers.

Not that that was Swanwhite's fault, Cassandra reminded herself sternly. The fair queen smiled obliviously at her daughter and stroked her hair. "You are becoming such a lady, my love."

Helen giggled and pointed teasingly at the decanter of sweet wine on the little table between the two queens. "Does that mean I'm old enough to taste unwatered wine at dinner tonight, mother?"

Swanwhite grinned at her cheek. "No. It means you get to keep studying with your aunt and me and keep practicing your poise and graces so that all will continue to grow in admiration and love for you, so you will be a worthy leader in the future."

Helen rolled her eyes but smiled back, happy for any praise from Swanwhite.

"Your mother is right, sweetling. And she is right for both you and for her and me. Older women are also to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to too much wine," Cassandra said. "They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the will of Aslan may not be reviled."

Swanwhite barked a laugh at this. "Oh, why did you never marry, Cassandra?"

The other queen blushed slightly, ire and confusion battling within her. Swanwhite was almost _too_ ready to laugh. "I never met the right man, I suppose... Were you and Colin talking about me, my lady? What else did my brother say?"

Grinning, Swanwhite answered, "I didn't need either of your brothers to tell me that, dear. I can simply tell from your words. You are quite right in a way, for it is virtuous for anyone, man or woman, to be reverent and speak judiciously, teach good habits to our young. Pure. And we women must surely _need_ self-control to submit to husbands and the tedium of caring for homes. But my dear Cassandra, we are also queens, after all. I defer to Colin because he is the High King, as do all Narnians, but I am also my own person. And you, had you married, would far outstrip your consort in rank as a scioness of the royal house! The royal dignity is an equal or perhaps even greater duty than the bond of matrimony, I should think. How would it be if I or Colin abandoned our duties to the country out of selfish love?"

"Forgive me, but I must be blunt, my lady," Cassandra argued with an edge to her voice. "You are confusing your daughter. Colin is High King. Ultimate authority is his, and all of us, including you, bow to him."

"Helen is quite old enough to grasp the nuance of royal power, I think. You are being reductive. What is _your_ power as queen, or Hector's as king, if the High King is the final word? I would argue that the first duty of every crowned king and queen in Narnia is _to rule_."

"Um..." Helen's eyes grew wide at the tension between the two queens, neither of whom were now sparing her the least attention.

"And what if _you_ were the eldest and crowned High Queen, Cassandra?" Swanwhite persisted. "Would you expect to _submit_ to a husband if you had one, or expect him to submit to your doubly anointed head?" She snorted. "Or remain virgin as you have done, and sidestep the problem entirely?"

Cassandra's jaw dropped. "You think _that's_ why...?" she sputtered. She felt an angry flush spread across her face but she forced herself to calm before replying stiffly, "My lady, I think we have been strangers too long. And I do not appreciate your unfounded...speculation. Especially when we are not alone." Her gaze flicked down to Helen momentarily, nervously checking to see how the child would take her comment.

Swanwhite smiled thinly, skin tightened around the point of her chin and the high crests of her cheekbones, and her cold eyes flashed. "You find my presence strange, Cassandra?"

The other woman sighed. "That is _not_ what I meant..."

"I know it is not what you meant, but it is what you feel. Do you deny it?"

..."I don't know what you expect me to say, my lady."

"From you, I expect honesty."

Cassandra stared at her then rolled her eyes. "Any way I answer that you could take amiss. Are you _trying_ to be difficult, Swanwhite?"

One thin eyebrow rose. "Perhaps."

Cassandra glared at her. "You didn't used to be this prickly."

"I have aged."

"So have I, and I don't like playing mind games. I am trying to be accommodating -"

"And you are doing a marvelous job, dear."

Cassandra huffed in annoyance. She just could not relax around her sister-in-law! It was almost like Swanwhite was deliberately needling her, and that had never happened when they were younger. She did not want to say anything untoward around Helen... but she would if she pursued this conversation much further, she concluded. She looked towards the tents. "It is hot," she said. She rose, dipped a short curtsey, and walked briskly away.

* * *

A soft sound escaped the Queen as she and Helen watched Cassandra storm off. "I think I have upset your aunt, Helen. Perhaps you should go after her?"

"But... what was that about, Mother?"

The Queen smiled softly. "I think your aunt is nervous about losing _you_ since I am here."

"Why?"

"Because I am change, Helen, and she knows change is not always good."

"But of course it's good that you're back!" Helen cried, shocked.

The Queen grinned. "Of course, and I'm not saying Aunt Cassandra does not want me here, she is just uncertain." Helen's brow furrowed. Evidently, it had not occurred to her that the miracle of her mother's return could cause problems too. "That's why I need you to reassure her." Finally, Helen nodded. She kissed her mother's cheek before following after her aunt.

The Queen waited just long enough to be sure her daughter was truly going before getting up in search of King Hector. She found him absorbed in a an intense game with the other boys. He and Prince Henry were teamed up against Crown Prince Frank and his little sons. And a young calf and centaur, she noted. Hector and Henry passed a small, soft ball over the heads of the others. Prince Frank tried to catch the ball, and his twin sons and their playmates ran back and forth in pursuit, laughing hysterically but making minimal effort to catch the ball themselves. Princess Rosemary, Frank's wife, lounged in the sun on the far side of the field with some other females. A number of them, including Rosemary, were amusing themselves twining flowers into the coat of a cow, who sat in the middle and chatted with the other women amiably. There even seemed to be an Aura in the mix, the rare wind nymph gathering flowers and petals from all over the meadow, setting them all a-tumble in sumptuous patterns in the air before dropping them into a pile before the princess and her ladies.

The ball game paused as Swanwhite came into view. All the princes came to hug her, and Hector kissed her hand. She waited patiently as Henry enthusiastically recounted the game for her, with a few interruptions from Frankie and Col.

"Would you like to play too, Mother?"

"No, thank you, darling. I wanted to speak to your uncle, actually."

Hector tossed the ball to his eldest nephew. "You're it, then, Frank. We'll watch from the sidelines for a bit." The game resumed without further ado, the centaur colt now trying his best to catch the ball as the littlest children frolicked around his feet. Hector and the queen strolled to the shade. She allowed her shoulders to slump ever so slightly and her expression to darken. "What's on your mind, my lady?"

She bit her lip before answering. "I had an argument with Cassandra."

"Another one? About what?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing of importance, really."

"But you're worried... why?"

After a moment, she shrugged, brow furrowing artfully.

Hector sighed and sat down on the grass, gesturing for the queen to join him. "I think you're worried because this is all new again. Remember how it felt when you were first introduced at court and had to learn how to be with everyone? This is the same. We all have to learn to be a family again. And it will feel strange because you are different, and we are different. We have all become set in our ways. We have mourned you for years, and you have... had your own trials..."

He studied her. She did not look at him but did not gainsay him. "Do you want to talk about that yet?"

"No."

"It will get better, Swanwhite. We are all here for you, especially Colin. Remember that."

"Thank you."

Smiling, Hector reached an arm around her shoulders and gave her a fraternal squeeze. He turned back to watch the game, enjoying the contentment of the moment and the presence of his sister-in-law.

* * *

Hector and Cassandra rode together for the first leg of the journey from the marshes to the coast. Hector grinned unconsciously. He was watching Colin and Swanwhite at the front of the line. His brother had not appeared so happy in years. He was simply thrilled to have his wife back, as were his children. The whole group clustered right around the queen, or at least as near as the children could convince their patient mounts to stay. Most of the horses tolerated the close-quarters pretty well, understanding of the royal children's needs. Actually, the horses Hector and Henry were riding had swapped places; Henry's four-legged friend Phillip liked his space and had talked Hector's Alissa into trading riders for a bit. Allisa was a bit of a prankster, though, which was its own amusement. Phillip and Hector both snorted in mirth every time she suddenly pranced ahead of the pack, tail in the air, vocally teasing the prince on her back for his youthful prattling.

Hector heard Cassandra sigh beside him and glanced at her askance. She was also watching their brother's family, but she looked rather despondent. "What's eating you, sister?"

Cassandra startled and guiltily tried to tool her features into a happier expression. "Nothing."

"You've never been a good liar, you know."

Her cheek twitched. "I know." She sighed again. "It's just... Swanwhite."

"What about her?"

"She's just... so... young! And please don't repeat any of this to the others, Phillip, Daisy."

The horses' ears flicked backwards and forwards again. "Never fear, your highness. Daisy and I will not pay you or King Hector the least bit of attention, unless you fall off."

"Quite," Daisy agreed. "You have my word, majesties."

"Thank you," Hector said graciously. "Now, what do you mean, Cassandra?"

"I don't know what I mean," she complained. "She keeps trapping me in these ridiculous little arguments, ones I don't think even she cares about. It's almost like talking to a sassy teenager! I'm walking on eggshells around her, and I don't know how to fix it. And I'm worried about Helen, and Henry. They're both so excited to have her back, but they don't _know_ her. I'm not even sure _I_ know her anymore..."

"Forgive me, sister, but are you sure your problem is with Swanwhite?"

"Pardon?"

"It is only right for her children to love being with her, precisely because they do not know her. It is healthy for them to explore that relationship. Perhaps your fear and your arguments with Swanwhite are more because of your own...insecurity?"

Cassandra exhaled slowly. "It might be. I keep telling myself to give her time, let her find her place. Let things settle. But something just feels...off. Any time I'm with her, she does not seem to be connecting to, well, anyone. Not to the children, not to me, not even to Colin, really."

"Cassandra, we cannot expect things to be as they were, and we cannot expect Swanwhite to be her old self or even _normal_ , especially not yet." Cassandra looked at him curiously. "We still don't know what happened to her," Hector said frankly. "But it was not good."

"What have you seen?" Cassandra asked softly, her own worries forgotten. Both horses flicked an ear back, listening despite their promises. Everyone in the realm was curious, after all.

"Have you not noticed, she avoids the wells and waterways of her cousins, no matter how they call out to her? Before she vanished, Swanwhite would visit every Naiad in the country on these yearly journeys. Since she has returned, she has not greeted a single one that I have seen. I asked Colin, and he agrees. Remember she missed the Adoration of the Lion ceremony at the solstice? I think she may have been avoiding the Naiads and Water God of the River Shribble who would doubtless be there. Something terrible happened to her, Cassandra, and she has not been able to tell Colin, or me, what it was. She vanished without a trace on the Northern border. She may have survived the Witch herself, and who knows what _that_ might have taken from her?"

Cassandra seemed to shiver at the very mention of the White Witch of their childhood nightmares. She was silent for a time. "I _hadn't_ noticed," she said finally, voice shrouded in guilt. "And you're right. She deserves time. I will be more considerate."

Hector leaned forward to murmur in Phillip's ear. The horse obligingly eased closer to Daisy and Cassandra. He reached out and patted his sister's shoulder comfortingly. "It's alright. You were worrying about the children. You've been mothering them for so long, it's only natural. But the best thing we can do for them is to help Swanwhite adjust, so she can love them as well."

She nodded, staring ahead. "Of course."

 **Author's note: stay tuned for more exciting things next chapter! If you read closely, you might notice that some of dialogue paraphrases specific Bible verses, particularly Cassandra's. That's for a reason. Also, the full verse at the top is actually** **"Do not be led away by diverse and strange teachings, for it is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not by foods, which have not benefited those devoted to them." The bit about food, although rather amusing, distracted from the point I was trying to make with this chapter, I think.**

 **Fun Fact: C.S. Lewis also wrote a trilogy of Sci Fi books: _Out of the Hidden Planet, Perelandra,_ and _That Hideous Strength_. They are also very Christian. _Perelandra_ is the best of those three in my opinion. The first one was pretty good too. The last one was just weird.**

 **Chapter 4 is drafted, but not finished.**


	4. Masquerade

**Matthew 7:15 Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.**

Colin watched his wife as she stood listening to the ebb and surge of the sea outside their pavilion. He wondered if the sound of water so close was a comfort or a terror for her. He wanted to understand her, to be as close as they once were, but she had walls around her now he had not seen before. Where before her heart beat proudly on her sleeve for all to see, she now was closed, masking her inner self. She betrayed no turmoil in public, but always, he thought he could see it simmering, and it broke his heart she did not wish to confide in him.

She wore a cheery face all day, he recalled, as the sovereigns walked the seashore, communed with the Merfolk in the shallows, and adjudicated the territorial dispute between the local Seagulls and a nesting pair of haughty Griffins. But though she walked the sand, her bare toes never touched the lapping tide. Then in the evening, Swanwhite's wit and laughter brightened the whole court as they finally feasted with a clan of Black Dwarves who had recently moved to the area in search of gold in the low hills wrinkling the land between the delta of the River Shribble and Cair Paravel. The High King wished luck to them, but thought they would be better off further inland. Hector and Master Turminius the Faun were to inspect their mines tomorrow and ensure any runoff was diverted away from communal waterways. Sending Hector with the doddery old Minister had been Swanwhite's suggestion; Colin usually undertook such ventures himself. His queen had so charmed the chief of the little clan, though, the old and more than a little tipsy dwarf had readily agreed to Hector's oversight, nodding so vigorously his beard flopped into his pudding. It was a good move all around, as Hector both enjoyed exercising his royal authority in these simple matters and had much more patience for the bureaucratic Turminius than Colin ever did- the Faun had a love for arcane legal points matched only by his admiration for huge tables of numbers and his fondness for scones. However, despite the queen's deft handling of her royal role, she seemed preoccupied. The worries she carried ever since her return still ate at her, he was convinced, sapping all the gaiety from her and leaving only a determination to duty.

It pained him to see her so.

"My darling, what troubles you?" he asked at last, the silence too much a torment to his thoughts.

"Nothing troubles me," the queen laughed, though the light and warmth in her voice never reached her frozen eyes.

"Yes, there is something," King Colin insisted, taking her hand and drawing her over to sit on the loveseat freshly woven for them out of reeds by some local Dryads. "Ever since your return, a miracle I had hardly dared hope for after so long..." she smiled at him and kissed his fingers. "Things are not as they were. I can hardly expect them to be. We were parted so long, and our children are grown."

"And having children of their own," the queen sighed.

"Quite. But you are different too, my beloved." He put a finger to her lips to forestall her objections. "Of course, you should be changed after ten years! Even if we had never parted, that would be so. But I worry for you. It has been weeks, and you still have not told us what happened- how you left, where you were, how you came back! I did not want to push you; I'm too glad to have you here again at my side. I love you, and I support you, and I want to keep you safely here for a long time... Who took you from me?"

A smile fluttered about the queen's pretty lips. She leaned forward to kiss him softly, then rested her head on his shoulder. "Is it not enough that we are together again, the whole family? Can we not focus on the happiness of today and forget the sorrow of the past?"

Colin grinned and stroked her hair. "We will, I promise we will. But you won't distract me yet, woman." He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. "I will fear for you until I know I can protect you," he said seriously.

She looked away and leaned further into him. "I didn't want to tell you." He waited. "I just want to be the family we were. I want to be young and innocent and loved again," she murmured.

She might not have meant it so, but her words struck at the high king like a dagger in the heart. Neither of them were young any more, it was true, and the best years of their marriage had been stolen from them. They were near-strangers now. Was it any wonder his wife seemed so comfortable in the company of his brother Hector and even other senior ministers in the court? Those relationships were easy to resume. Formal but friendly. How much more disorienting to return the love of a husband and children used to life without a matriarch? No wonder there was tension with Cassandra, the other queen in this court... Colin folded his arms around his wife. "Please, Swanwhite."

Slowly, she began to speak. "I walked alone in the wood that day. I was hiking up the hill, towards Ettinsmoor." She paused.

"I always wondered if it was a giant."

"No," she said firmly. "Some giants have emigrated from Narnia, but they are not your enemies. They simply need wider territory away from the homes of smaller creatures. No... I was waylaid at a stream by a beautiful woman. She could have been my cousin... She might have been, actually." She met his eyes. "She was another Naiad."

Colin was stunned. All the naiads he knew loved Swanwhite, one of their most cherished princesses! "...And she took you from me?" Swanwhite nodded. "How?"

"She spoke a spell, and her waters rose up to envelop us. The current was swift and freezing cold, melted from the mountains. I could not move. I lost the sunlight. I felt many hands upon me. I lost my _power._ I- I had never been afraid in water before, but it was like my own birthright was turned against me, like I was _drowning_ in my own mother's womb. _I cannot drown._ I came to rest in the cold and the dark I know not how long, for I lost all sense of time. I felt I might have died there... I don't even know how I escaped, only that I wandered senselessly through dim and narrow passages, lost and alone, through air and water and even earth, until I finally found myself drifting in the headwaters of the River Shribble this spring. And then there were the marshes, and then there you were. Fate found me and brought me to you."

He kissed her. "Aslan found you." She tensed a little and began to cry. "Shh..." He searched her eyes wonderingly. He had been fascinated with her eyes since they first met. All Naiads contained something of their watery homes within them, and Swanwhite's eyes had seemed to swirl with the currents and eddies of her river home. Now, though the color was the same riveting blue, they were still and flat as a mere frozen in winter. Her skin was less the whiteness of a pearl or the swan that was her namesake, than the whiteness of snow. What horrors could alter his beloved so, steal the warmth and tempest from her?

"A Naiad did this, you say. That is why you no longer look into the wells, isn't it? Even though your cousins all clamor for your attention?"

The queen nodded. "Yes... I know they mean well, but I won't see myself trapped in water again. Even my reflection."

"Lingering a year and a day... yes, I can see how that could be distressing for you. It will not be so. You are _safe_ here, Swanwhite. Your wish is my command. You may forswear water for the rest of your life, if that is what you need." He stood up suddenly and strode to the sideboard. "Look! Here is wine!" The queen laughed behind him. He poured two cups of wine, brought them back over, and knelt before her. "I drink to you, my queen. I will stand by you and keep you safe unto death. I will seek out your enemies and take them for my own. If this sprite still exists who tore us apart, I will find her and punish her. You have my oath." He handed one cup to her, clinked the edges, and drank his down.

Smiling, Swanwhite followed suit, then took his glass and rose from the loveseat. She drifted over to the sideboard and carefully refilled the cups. "Well, my generous lord, if we are making promises... I love you, and I know you love me. Twelve years ago, you took Swanwhite as your bride, and had three beautiful children with her before you were parted. Now, I wish to make that union again. I will be your wife, to love and cherish and honor you, to raise our children, to rule at your side as Queen of Narnia, until death do us part." She handed him a cup.

He smiled. "And I will be your husband, to love and cherish and honor you, to raise our children, to rule at your side as High King of Narnia, until death do us part. In Aslan's name!" They touched glasses and drank the sweet wine down. Then Colin took both cups and set them atop his flat travel trunk. He scooped Swanwhite into his arms and twirled her around the pavillion. She laughed in surprise and delight. He set her on the bed and kissed her deeply, desire rising for their union. She yielded to him utterly.

* * *

It was just after sunset, with King Colin already soundly asleep, that the Queen rose from their bed. She tiptoed to the king's trunk and whispered a spell over both wine glasses still resting there. The lingering smear of poison in the bottom of the king's glass rolled up the side onto her waiting finger. She carefully touched the drop to the edge of its tiny bottle and secreted the flask into the folds of her robe. She wiped her tainted fingers on a handkerchief. She extracted her thin, crystalline wand from the concealed sheath in her boot. She reached for her power and turned the handkerchief to stone, then crushed the delicate thing in her hand, leaving only sand and not a trace of the mind-altering potion. Grinning like a demon, she slid the wand back into her boot and tiptoed from the pavillion. She flitted through the seaside camp like a wraith She avoided the white crystal sands of the beach that reflected the moon and brilliant stars as if day was dawning. Instead, she stayed among the tents, keeping to the shadows as much as possible without being suspiciously furtive. Tall and striking as she was, Queen Jadis the Witch still knew how not to be seen, even by the young and eager tawny owl acting as watchman for the court this evening. At last, she found her destination and stopped outside her "brother-in-law's" tent. King Hector was waiting for her, as he was most evenings. To play chess and drink wine, and talk with his recently returned sister-in-law. It was perfectly innocent. For now. He already had the board set up and a vintage poured.

"How goes, Swanwhite?" He moved a white pawn, and Jadis grinned. She slightly admired the man's nerve, choosing the white without asking.

"Well, my lord." She sat and moved a black knight.

They played and chatted aimlessly for half an hour, before Jadis decided to approach her true purpose. "Can I tell you something, Hector?"

"Certainly."

"I'm worried about Colin."

"Why?"

"He asked me again what happened, and I had to tell him this time."

"Oh? How did he take it?"

"Not well." Hector knew the bones of the story she had told his brother. She had been carefully cultivating their relationship in the weeks since her arrival at the court, particularly his role as her "special comforter and confidant." She had told him he was the one person she felt she could be herself with, because he seemed "untouched by time." Or some drivel like that anyways. The words changed from day to day, but the meaning was consistent. Unsaid, of course, was the romantic component. It was not yet time for that. Oh, she had ensured he would not fail to notice her body, but she would not seem to lead him on. Yet. Still, she shifted slightly so the inconstant light of the moon better accented her figure, disguising the movement as a reluctance to continue her explanation.

"What did he say, Swanwhite?"

"He was angry. He said he wanted to avenge us against the water sprite that tore us apart."

"He should be angry. He loves you!"

"I know he does. I just wish he would focus on our future rather than the past..."

"Give him time. He will."

"Yes..."

"That isn't all that's bothering you, is it?"

"No. I'm worried he might do something extreme out of a sense of protectiveness. You weren't there. He was talking about putting restrictions on all Naiads..."

"Even you?" Hector joked.

"Obviously not, but you see what I'm saying, don't you? He wasn't thinking clearly."

Hector frowned, considering. Jadis sipped her wine and concealed her triumphant smile. She didn't need to persuade him of anything right now, just plant a seed of doubt for later, and she had certainly accomplished that. "Well, I'm sure any irregularity was just the heat of the moment. He has been overjoyed having you back, Swanwhite. All of us are. It is a frightening thought that you could..."

"Vanish again?" Jadis swallowed and tried to look afraid. "It is frightening for me as well." She hunched slightly in her chair and looked down. Men liked to comfort women who looked vulnerable.

"Hey now," Hector said, coming over to crouch by her chair. "I should not have said that, Swanwhite, I apologize."

"It's quite alright, Hector." She let a quiver enter her voice. "I am just tired... I should go." She stood up, Hector quickly rising with her.

"Shall I walk you back, my lady?"

She laughed. "No, thank you, my lord. The camp is not so large as that. Just, thank you for being my friend."

Hector held out his arms, and they hugged. "Goodnight, Queen Swanwhite."

She allowed the embrace to continue slightly longer than usual. "Goodnight, King Hector."

Jadis left, again avoiding the murmuring of the owl and cat now sharing the watch. She allowed herself a pleasurable smirk. There were three weeks until the Feast of the Great Lion, when the court would offer gifts of their own hands to their god before setting off on the final leg of the summer tour, back to Cair Paravel. Three weeks was plenty of time to degrade the mind of the High King. Plenty of time to cultivate the first fruits of her labors. She slipped back into the tent she shared with Colin. The moon shown on his face, revealing a smile of perfect contentment, almost enough to wash away the frown lines he had collected over the years. It was good for him to smile now, she supposed. She slipped out of her robes and back into the bed, pulling his warm body close. He did not wake at her touch, but his lively heart did wonders to heat her blood. Dilation of the blood vessels and quickening of the pulse was a side effect of the potion she had fed the king, but one only she was likely to notice. She smiled and closed her eyes. He served his purpose well, this Son of Adam.

 **Author's note: twist the first! Swanwhite never came back after all! It was the Witch all along! Dundunduuuunnn... Sorry it was a bit slow setting that up, but I did want it to be something of a surprise. No, I'm not sure when the next chapter will come along. You will have to place an alert.**

 **Fun fact: there was a famous case of identity theft in Medieval France, where a young man ran out on his family to go to war, returned to his wife and daughter seven years later. They had another child, but then several _years_ down the line, some of the other people in the family accuse him of being an imposter. The case goes to a pretty high court, and the family cannot agree on whether or not he's the real deal... _until the real Martin Guerre showed up in court_. Turns out, the imposter was soldier-buddies with the original and decided to take over his life, since the original Martin said he didn't want to go back. The imposter was executed, and Martin Guerre finally returned to his family and adopted the imposter's son. The whole thing was dramatized in a pretty good French film, _The Return of Martin Guerre._**


	5. The Offering

**I Corinthians 10:20: No, I imply that what pagans sacrifice they offer to demons and not to God. I do not want you to be participants with demons.**

The day dawned bright and clear on the day of the Feast of the Great Lion, painting the shingle beach and its parent cliffs a riot of colors to match the garden that was the sheltered bay. The wind was high coming off the Eastern Sea. A joyous song lilted through the air, Naiads and Dryads and other spirits joining their voices in a hymn of praise for Aslan. The bay rapidly filled with floating garlands, the traditional hand-woven offerings from the common folk. A family of fauns pranced down the beach, cast colorful wreaths into the water, and raced to dance around the bonfire quickening a little further up the shingle. As they passed, a young pair of river otters chittered and laughed, pushing a veritable raft of woven flowers downstream, adding their own garlands of irises from the riverbank to the mix before shoving the whole construction into the tidewater. All across the country, all the Peoples of Narnia, whether talking animals, nymphs, dwarves, fauns, centaurs, or greater creatures, were gathering along the nearest waterways with their gifts for the Lion. It was a very busy day for the Naiads, as they charitably helped their neighbors' offerings along the way, cradling fragile floral braids in gentle water and guiding each around the snags and rapids inherent to the great streams of Narnia's hills and forests. Eventually, every stream, bearing every gift, wended its way to the Eastern Sea...

Queen Cassandra watched as Princess Rosemary led her twin sons forward. Frankie and Col each clutched a garland clumsily woven of red flowers Cassandra had helped them pick yesterday. She grinned as Frankie enthusiastically hurled his into the waves, only to pout in disappointment when it broke apart almost instantly while still airborne. Rosemary shushed and reassured him before he managed to throw a tantrum, fortunately. Having watched his brother's travesty, Col gravely waddled forward and placed his garland gently into the lapping water. It stayed on the beach, too heavy to float into the surf, until a couple of helpful Haliae, saltwater nymphs, sent a larger, sparkling blue wave to gather it up. Rosemary thanked the Haliae and spun her own intricate creation into the water. Unlike her sons' fresh but clumsy creations, Rosemary's garland was a wonder of needlework that had taken her months to complete, just for this ceremony. Every member of the royal family worked on something special with their own hands for this day, once they were old enough.

Princess Helen stepped forward next. She knelt down and floated a shallow reed basket containing a rainbow of carefully folded paper flowers, each only the size of a button. Cassandra had taught her the patterns.

Prince Henry strode forward, proudly bearing a little carved wooden boat, complete with miniature sails no higher than his knee, and adorned with pressed trilia he had collected in the Lantern Waste this spring. He pushed it into the water and seemed supremely satisfied to watch it cut neatly through the waves. Cassandra stifled a smirk as her teenaged nephew turned around, beaming. The model sailboat was too small to stay upright for long without help, but she had noted one of the Haliae eyeing Henry and suspected the young nymph was easing its passage. Cassandra watched the smiling nymph for a moment, memorizing her pretty face. She decided to track her down later, if she could, and talk to her. There _could_ be a match there in a few years, though she would be the first Hallia to join the family, Cassandra mused.

The Crown Prince nodded to his brother as they passed each other. Frank carried a painted wreath carved from a single block of cherry wood. It was a truly beautiful work of art. She and Hector had both praised his skill when he had shown them the finished piece a few days ago. He raised it high above his head where the colors could really catch the light, then tossed it into the sea. As he turned to walk back to the group where Cassandra gathered up her own creation, she noticed several gulls and other shore birds swooping by the spot where Frank's gift floated. Clearly, she wasn't the only one impressed this year. She would have to mention it to him later.

Queen Swanwhite drifted forward. Cassandra was mildly surprised as her sister-in-law threw a small, delicate circle of dazzling white into the water. Swanwhite could hardly have had time to make the sumptuous offering typically expected of the anointed royals, but whatever she had made was certainly pretty. She did skip the traditional benediction, though. Swanwhite must not have quite finished her offering, Cassandra mused, which was understandable. It was improper to speak during the ceremony, Master Turminius had eagerly lectured the entire court for the umpteenth time, if one was not an anointed royal with a complete offering commensurate with one's status.

It was Cassandra's turn. She curtsied to her family and walked forward in silence. The water was pleasantly warm as she waded into the surf up to her knees. Slowly, she folded back the square of silk wrapping her offering, exposing a delicate flower wreath crafted of polished stone beads. She had spent her evenings all winter in Cair Paravel making the tiny beads of stones she had collected all across the kingdom the year before. She had spent the spring and summer stringing the beads onto gold and silver wires and affixing the loops just so to a wreath woven from a weeping willow. The end result was very beautiful, and she was quite proud of it. Looking down, she grinned at the bright shingle beneath her feet, colors vibrant under the water; she would have to collect some for next year's project. She took a breath and raised her voice, "Aslan, Aslan, I am blessed by your will and your power with the crown of a Narnian Queen. You have said that everyone shall give as they are able, according to the blessing you have granted us. You have said that to give is greater than to receive, but what we have received from you- life, happiness, safety, and prosperity- are the greatest blessings of all. I give thanks on behalf of my people, and return to you and your father the Emperor Across the Sea a second circlet. Made by my hand and my sweat and my love, accept this offering!" She cast her creation into the waves and watched it float for a moment. A deep sense of calm and a feeling of being loved embraced her for a moment and was gone. Smiling happily, Cassandra turned and waded back to dry land and her family.

She passed Hector. He winked at her and made a show of hiding his own offering from her on the other side of his body. She rolled her eyes. She and her brothers had been making variations on the same three gifts for twenty years now. Each one was a work of art in its own way, but she had seen enough of Hector's tooled leather-and-silver garlands that hiding this one was perfectly meaningless. She picked Frankie up when she reached the royal stage and kissed his dimpled cheek, listening with half an ear to Hector's benediction, twin to her own.

"Fowers bwoke, Auntie," Frankie mumbled into her ear, sounding utterly heartbroken in the special way only toddlers could.

"Shhh... oh, honey, I know, but that's okay! Aslan loved them anyways!"

"Nuh-uh! Bwoke!"

She nuzzled his nose, eliciting a grin despite his distress. "Don't you know, all the garlands break apart on the journey across the sea, sweet."

His eyes widened. "Even Mama's?" She nodded seriously. "Even _yours?"_

Cassandra laughed and nodded again. "The true offering is the love that goes into the making of them. Did you love picking flowers with me yesterday?" Still uncertain, the child nodded. "Do you love Aslan?" An adorably vigorous affirmative. "Then you have nothing to worry about, do you, darling?" Smiling now, the toddler rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms tight around her neck.

Cassandra hugged him close and turned to see Rosemary jiggling Col on her hip. She looked highly amused. "Auntie knows best," she said wryly.

"But of course," Cassandra agreed. They both turned to watch the final offering before the feast.

High King Colin strode forth briskly, his gift obscured by a square of red silk. He stopped a few feet beyond the reach of the waves. Confusingly, he turned to face the crowd, his expression very serious. "My fellow Narnians," he called loudly, and waited. Master Turminius sitting on a rug a few feet in front of Cassandra spilled tea over himself. The dancers twirled to a startled stop, and the singing faded into a silent question. The royal benedictions were prayers to Aslan, after all, not speeches demanding an audience. Even among the Narnians that were present for the royal ceremony, most did not actually stop and listen.

Cassandra looked around to the rest of the court, but everyone else in the family looked just as surprised as she was. Even Swanwhite and Helen had looked up from their conversation. Then mother and daughter both visibly relaxed as Colin started speaking again. "Ten years ago, our nation mourned as our beloved queen was taken from us. I lost a wife whom I loved. My children were forced to live without a mother. Many others were also affected by the loss of Swanwhite. We leaned on you and on my siblings in our time of grief. I thank Hector and Cassandra and all Narnians for their strength. And I thank Aslan for a miracle, for this year, Swanwhite returned to us." A cheer rose up from the crowd, and Colin smiled. Swanwhite blew him a kiss. Cassandra found herself nodding along with her brother's words. It made sense that he would want to honor Swanwhite's return, again. And a day of thanksgiving was certainly the perfect time.

Colin raised one hand, and silence fell again. "I give thanks for the miracle of my wife's return, but my happiness is marred. Our peace has been broken... the enemy who stole our queen is now exposed." Murmurs rose from the crowd as the High King paused. Cassandra glanced at Hector, confused, but Hector wasn't looking at her. His eyes flitted worriedly between Colin and Swanwhite. For her part, Swanwhite had the look of a woman intentionally controlling herself, and Cassandra did not know why. Clearly, her brothers knew something she didn't. "For years," Colin began again, pulling the attention of the crowd back to him, "I believed my wife a victim of the White Witch, our sworn enemy. Our _only_ enemy, and an enemy the Lion has protected us from for the greater part of two centuries with the power of the Tree." He paused again, then said carefully, "I give thanks for that protection. Truly, we must all give thanks, for I now know the wards of the Lion stand unbroken. I tell you, the Witch's power has never reached us, not even ten years ago on the border of Ettinsmoor... My people, Queen Swanwhite revealed to me the nature of her attacker, and it was not the Witch. It was one of our own, a seeming friend..." Cassandra felt her heart quicken and unconsciously hugged Frankie closer. She did not know what her brother was talking about, and she was furious she was only finding out about it now. Particularly, she thought, since Hector apparently already knew. They were _supposed_ to be a team. She glared briefly at each of her brothers then forced her ire down so she could listen again.

"Alas, my people, the queen did not know _who_ took her from us, but she did know _what_ , and it was a betrayal of kind more heinous than I could have imagined. My queen was betrayed and taken captive by a _Naiad!"_ The royal family and the court remained silent, with expressions ranging from shock to stoicism, but the crowd erupted at their king's last shouted words: angry denials, shouts of confusion and disbelief, cries of fear and despair, but also some mutterings of suspicion. One person shouted _"Aslan save the queen!"_ before Colin once more raised a hand to quiet them. "I share your fear, your confusion, and your anger. But this bitter truth is still a gift, for now we have new purpose."

He whirled back around and raised his offering over his head. "Aslan, Aslan, I am blessed by your will and your power to be crowned High King of Narnia. You have said that everyone shall give as they are able, according to the blessing you have granted us. You have given me my queen, and with her life, you have given me a new mission, to protect her from her enemy. Our enemy. I give thanks on behalf of my people, and return to you and your father the Emperor Across the Sea a circlet and a first step to renew the safety of this land. Made by my hand and my sweat and my love, accept this offering!" With that, he swept the red silk aside, revealing the severed head of a Naiad crowned with roses. The blood was still dripping from the neck, though it changed to water as it fell. He hurled it into the water with an air of triumph, all the Halliae and various water creatures darting away from where it landed in terror.

For the first time since the Beginning, chaos, fear, and unnatural death was come to Narnia, delivered by the High King himself.

 **Author's Note: Let's get this party (read: plot) started! Reviews are welcome. Fun fact, "Haliae" is a generic term for nymphs of the sea and seashore, according to Wikipedia.**


	6. Until Today

**I Samuel 15:23 For rebellion is as the sin of divination, and presumption is as iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has also rejected you from being king.**

 _In the Beginning, there was only bare earth and empty sky. Everything else was born of the Great Lion's Song. This is a story of the beginning of water. The Song told of the Sea, and the River running to the Sea, and the Streams feeding the River, and the Wellspring that feeds each stream. The Song told of Rain to come, but this was only in the imagination in the Beginning, for there were as yet no clouds and no storms in the bliss of the first day. From the Song was born water and also the spirits of waters._

 _The first of these is the eldest of the River Gods, the soul of the river we call simply the Great River. All the Naiads of his tributaries and all the Haliae of the sea are his daughters, for on the first day, the Great River began in the Lantern Waste and flooded forth to create the varied streams and meres and marshes of Narnia, then filled the Eastern Sea with the sweat of that first great flood._

 _In the fullness of time, it was given to the Haliae of the Sea together with the Aurae of the air to create the first clouds, and these travelled over the whole of the world. The first rains came a month after the forming of the world, and the echoes of the Song could be heard in the first thunder. It was with the first rain that all of the other rivers of the world filled their banks and awoke their own spirits. Yet all was not settled. Water had to learn its cycle, for everything was new, and from the very beginning, all waters were one. In the weeks that followed, the newborn rivers strove against their banks, flowing backwards or pushing between and over hills in a vain effort to join the course of the Great River, as that was the course familiar to all water from the beginning. To stem the chaos, the Great River sent forth his daughters to all the waters in the world to sing the Lion's Song anew - with music, joy and laughter, the Naiads taught all rivers to flow into the sea. This is a song all Naiads sing to this day, reminding water of its proper course, and that is why to this day the babble of a brook is the most delightful sound in nature, the last echo of the Lion's Song._

 _In reverence of the Great River and in order to know themselves as different from their origin, all other River Gods of the world took their names from the world around them. And that is why the Great River of all the rivers in the world has_ no _name,_ _for he of all water spirits is simply oneness with his nature_ _._

—Excerpt from _A Book of Tales for Children by Mrs. Dolly Fauna_

* * *

Keeping her face perfectly blank and still, with wide eyes locked on the High King, Jadis watched carefully as various Narnians, royal and not, dispersed in panic. She ignored Princess Helen, screaming beside her and clutching at her long skirts. This moment of observation was important. It would determine how she played the game as time went on.

Most of the nymphs scattered instantly, since the victim was one of their own. Although rather a lot of the Dryads were still standing stalk-still, their bodies rapidly changing to wood and leaf. That was a delightfully pointless defense, in Jadis' opinion.

Most of the prey animals and fauns followed the nymphs' lead, but they seemed uncertain and stopped before they reached the hills and milled about pointlessly. Talking beasts of any kind had too much intelligence to behave like their dumb fellows, it seemed. Although that intelligence could get them killed, now, she thought with satisfaction.

Many of the predators and most of the centaurs took it upon themselves to remain alert and guard the rear, but their jaws snapped and their eyes rolled viciously. They were nervous too and would panic again easily. And the crowd was too large and chaotic for the few sensible ones to manage, as various groups tried to run in various directions only to stumble to a confused standstill moments later.

Having noted the behavior of common rabble in seconds, Jadis shifted her attention to the royals, though her eyes remained directed towards Colin alone. Nearby, Cassandra stared and stared at the foul murder in front of her. Princess Rosemary too. Actually, the part-Dryad princess looked to be changing into a tree. So, both were the sort to freeze like a startled prey animal in a panic. Excellent. Amusingly, Cassandra hadn't even noticed Rosemary's predicament, and the resulting danger to the toddler clutched in his mother's woody embrace. Cassandra was pathetically easy to read at the moment. Jadis could almost hear her sister-in-law's panicked thoughts: _How could this happen? How could a_ murder _happen here? She would only know the word "murder" from stories of the Other World... but after all, how else could this death be called?_ _How could Colin do this?_ Cassandra remained still as the idiot, Turminius, fainted dead away at her feet, as panicked people streamed across her field of vision, as her oldest nephew Frank ran forward to confront his father.

Frank looked outraged, shouting at Colin. That was good. Jadis had deliberately held him off, of all "her children." Frank must have no reservations in opposing Colin's excesses. Those two could manage for a time.

She tried to spot Hector, but it was difficult from the corner of her eye...

Cassandra dropped Frankie. His startled wails jolted her into action. Jadis had suspected it might; Cassandra seemed extremely devoted to the family, surpassing her brothers even. The frazzled queen looked around. Rosemary still stood staring next to her, and green leaves had burst forth from her arms still twined around Col. The aging queen grabbed the squalling toddler from his mother before he could become trapped. She scooped Frankie back up in her other arm, quickly reassured that he was just afraid, not hurt. She looked up again and found Swanwhite, still standing as if frozen, face utterly blank. Jadis held back a grin at her sister-in-law's sympathetic, almost tender, expression. Her face became yet more motherly as her gaze shifted to wailing Helen.

Cassandra struggled over to them with her squirming grand-nephews. "Helen!"

"Auntie." Helen hugged her knees, which was really not helpful, actually. The poor woman almost dropped Frankie again.

"Helen, you have to help me."

"What?" The princess looked up with a tear-streaked face.

"I can't keep carrying these two. You need to help me. Can you be strong for me?" Helen glanced back towards the beach and gasped as she saw Rosemary. Wordlessly, she nodded and accepted Frankie onto her lap, though she still cried pathetically. At least the girl had some trace of a spine.

Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief and lifted Col higher. She touched Jadis' arm, but the Queen refused to move yet, still staring forward. She could not be distracted until all the players were in motion. "Hector, see to Swanwhite," Cassandra shouted, her gaze finally betraying his location to their left. "Henry?"

Jadis observed Hector carefully; she didn't really care what Henry did at the moment, as he was largely superfluous to her plans and already a highly suggestible teenager anyways. He could wait. Hector, though...he was pale as he entered her line of vision. Shaken, but not rattled. Perfect. "Swanwhite?" he questioned. She stayed still, for now. Hector bit his lip. He glanced at his sister, who was still shepherding children, and glanced down the beach to where Frank and Colin were still arguing. He whirled around, apparently deciding she could wait. "Master Bovinius!" he bellowed. "Take over for me with the wolves! Get Lady Meadowmist to help, and maybe the lynx we met earlier! No, I don't remember his name, just do it!"

Giddily, Jadis realized King Hector had actually been trying to coordinate the predators she had observed already. The great bull, Master Bovinius, thundered by with a tall, female centaur at his heels, rumbling commands to a local wolf pack. It was brilliant actually, putting an aggressive prey creature who was quite used to ordering others around, given his rank at court, in charge of controlling this mixed crowd. Emboldened and comforted by the royal command, the bull and his wolves rapidly recruited more volunteers to force some semblance of order on the crowd. It appeared to be highly effective delegation. Jadis could almost imagine Hector _had_ encountered this kind of violence before. He rose in her estimation.

And now Hector was in front of her again, holding her shoulders with a worried look in his eye. "Swanwhite, I'm here. It's alright. Please, speak to me." Time to snap out of it, apparently. Jadis quickened her breathing and tooled her face into a mask of shock and fear rather than its previously blank facade. "Shh...You're safe. It's fine. I'm here, Swanwhite. Breath easy." She let him take her weight and assist her to sit on the ground. She met his eyes, trying to look grateful, and trusting, and defenseless. It was a tiresome but important act, and she knew she was performing perfectly.

Her course was set, her plans crystallized in all of two minutes. She could see the next few weeks and months spreading before her like a river rushing towards its sea. Everything would just flow into place. She was certain of it, now.

* * *

"Father! What have you _done?"_ Frank V had been anointed as Crown Prince of Narnia three years ago at the tender age of nineteen on the same day that he married Rosemary. Since that time, he had never had a reason to even speak against his father the High King until today. Yet now... A Naiad was _dead_. The only other Naiad he had ever known to have died was the one who dried up after his mother vanished all those years ago. _"What have you done?"_ he shouted again.

"Just what I said. A beginning. All waters are one - do you think the face and name of your mother's attacker could be concealed from her without a greater conspiracy? No. She is still in danger from her own, and I will keep her safe."

Frank stared at his father, then at the severed head slowly dissolving in the surf. "Are you saying that the poor nymph you beheaded was _not_ the culprit?"

"She _was_ guilty, but she would not confess. That mentality will change." The High King smiled and reached out to cup his cheek. Frank winced at the moisture from his fingertips - the blood of the Naiad turned to pure water, leaving no stain to mark her murderer. _M_ _urderer?_ His blood ran cold at the very thought. There were no murderers in Narnia, until today. "I have a plan, my son, by which we can save your mother. The Naiads may have betrayed Swanwhite, but they will likely still be loyal amongst themselves. They are all guilty, and if enough are threatened, the web must unravel. Even if your mother's assailant refuses to come forward..."

"You would condemn an entire people?" Frank whispered in horror.

"Yes," his father smiled, oblivious to his reaction.

"Without confirmation? Without witness?" he grasped for the words from the legends of the Other World, as this kind of transgression was simply unprecedented in Narnia. "Without... _trial?_ "

"It is the only way."

"That's insanity!"

"No, Frank. I have thought about this, and the path is clear..." He made to move past Frank, and the prince grabbed the king by the shoulders, meeting his gaze with wide, shocked eyes.

"Clear as the blood on your hands, yes, indeed. But _clarity_ does not change the nature of insanity. Even if there _were_ a conspiracy against Mother, which I highly doubt, what you are saying is- is- _madness!_ "

"Would you let your mother die?"

"No, but I won't let you kill your own innocent subjects to protect her."

His father's face grew cold, and he shrugged. "You do not understand. Your defiance is meaningless. I am the High King."

The High King's word was law...or had been until today. "And I will be High King after you, murderer. If necessary, I will be High King today. The Naiads are under my protection as of now, and I'm quite certain Mother would agree with me." Frank shoved his father into the bay where two Haliae immediately fought to restrain him. He turned and shouted for Mist, the beautiful white mare he had met five years ago who had become his most loyal friend. She galloped to meet him, lowering her head so he could snag a handful of her mane and leap up bareback. He hugged her neck as she carried him away.

"My father's gone mad, Misty." He murmured. "I can't explain now, but just help me get the Naiads here to safety!"

"Got it." She didn't question him. She swerved towards the river.

* * *

Cassandra still didn't understand what was happening. The family was secure, finally. Hector and Master Bovinius had fished Colin out of the sea after Frank had pushed him in and the Haliae nearly drowned him. Prince Frank was gone, who knew where, and all the Naiads and other nymphs, and some other, mostly young, folk. The remaining crowds were settled, though uneasy. Some had just scattered, but most lingered near the royal court, looking for reassurance.

As soon as Hector and Colin neared, Cassandra rushed to meet them.

"I'm fine," Colin said before she even opened her mouth. _Obviously,_ she thought irately. "Where's Swanwhite?" the High King asked.

"She's up with the rest of the family, who are also fine," Cassandra said shortly. "What have you done?"

"I did what I had to do to ensure my wife's safety," Colin answered serenely.

"By causing a riot?"

"By executing a traitor."

"First time I've heard of it," Cassandra snorted, furious. "But you knew about this, Hector?"

Hector shook his head wearily. "I knew what had attacked Swanwhite before. That's it."

"Well, now you know," Colin said impatiently. "I will need both of your help, now. We need to get ahead of this conspiracy before my misguided son drives all the traitors to ground."

"What conspiracy?" Cassandra asked. "Colin, you _idiot._ You are the High King! You are _not_ to say, 'It is a conspiracy!' in regard to all that people call a conspiracy, and you are not to fear what they fear _or_ be in dread of it."

"I am not 'in dread,' sister dear. I listen to no rumors and confided in no one but the agents who carried out my orders, all of whom are in complete concordance with me. _I_ identified the conspiracy. The water demons. Naiads. As I tried to tell Frank before he ran off, all waters are one. The attack could not occur in isolation. It's physically impossible. Such profound lies...every one of them, at least in the northern watershed, must have known..." Colin shook himself, then smiled at her reassuringly. "Don't worry, Cass. I have a plan. You and Hector can mind the court and take care of Swanwhite. This will be hard for her, especially for her. She is too gentle for what must be. She will try to talk me out of it. I will take care of the rest."

"...What are you saying, Colin?" Hector asked quietly, eyes wide and face tense.

"There's only one way to be sure. We must purge the streams. The northern watershed at the very least, but if the traitors do not confess and a wide conspiracy remains possible...then all the Naiads must die."

He said it so calmly, as though it was perfectly natural. As though he were discussing nothing more important than the weather. Cassandra saw the blood drain from Hector's face and felt herself grow faint. Speechless and paralyzed with shock, they watched their older brother stride over to the rest of the family, take his wife's hands and passionately kiss her trembling lips. Then he turned to address the crowd, with a speech filled with suspicion, and fear, and conspiracy, and vitriol, and hatred. He ended his address with the pronouncement that all Naiads were hereby held under suspicion of high treason. Thus suspected, he ordered a declaration of war against all Daughters of the Water, and their fathers and brothers, and all who sheltered them.

The word of the High King was law and must be obeyed. Neither Hector nor Cassandra had the wherewithal at the moment to intervene, both stunned and confused. With fear and trepidation, the crowd dispersed to carry out his orders, or to join the Crown Prince in secret rebellion.

No one was reassured.

 **Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm not dead. I basically hit writer's block on this one for a long time and therefore worked on a bunch of other things instead. Also the real world. But I'm back to posting infrequent but not as rare updates... I'm still not entirely confident about this chapter, but sometimes you have to say "good enough" rather than keep sitting on it. Let me know what you think.**


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